"I … " She paused, at a loss for words. "You know that I don't care that you're a ranch hand, right?"
His eyes widened as he looked at her for a second and then took a step closer. "Are you sure about that, Brielle?" His gaze seemed to burn right through her.
"Of course that doesn't matter. Your working for me has nothing to do with the fact that I don't want my dad to find you in my bed. You could be the prince of a foreign country, the president of the United States, a lawyer, doctor, anything. It wouldn't matter. All that would matter was that you were in my bed. My dad already thinks so poorly of me. I just … "
Why was it that she always revealed too much of herself to this man? He, however, was oddly quiet about himself and especially about his emotions.
Heck, she didn't even know where he slept when he wasn't in her bed. Maybe if he wanted to climb into her bed again, she should make him begin sharing more with her. Yes! He was definitely going to have to start telling her things about himself, or they weren't spending one more night together.
///
"I think I actually believe you," Colt said as if surprised.
"I would hope so," Brielle replied, her eyes narrowing. She was sick of people judging her and thinking she came up short.
Walking back to her, he lifted her from the bed, and pulled her into his arms. "Brielle Storm, you are not what I expected," he told her with a real smile, then leaned in and gave her one solid kiss. Then he dropped her back onto the bed.
She was speechless.
"I'll leave now before I lose my good intentions and begin ravishing you," he said. Before slipping through her door, he looked back at her one more time. "I'll be back later."
And then he was gone. Brielle didn't quite know what had just happened, but she sat there in a daze as she listened to him humming all the way down her stairs. It was several minutes after she heard the click of her front door closing before she managed to get up on her wobbly legs and drift into the bathroom.
A twenty-minute shower cleared some of the cobwebs from her brain, but not nearly as many as she needed for a visit with her father. Oh well, ready or not, the time had come. She was just putting the finishing touches on her makeup when her doorbell rang.
Chapter Twenty
There's a great diner in town where we can have lunch."
Brielle was exhausted after spending the first half of the day with her father, showing him the ranch, and all that she knew about it. She'd had a fake smile plastered on her face all morning, and it was really beginning to wear on her.
Her father hadn't been judgmental, hadn't made her feel like less of a person, but she was trying so desperately to impress him that her shoulders were tight and her body was on full alert. What if he decided right now that she just couldn't do this?
It wouldn't take much for him to pull the plug on the whole operation. Yes, the business was in her name, but he supplied the money to run it, and she'd never be able to get that kind of capital on her own.
Before she'd arrived and even into her first couple of weeks here, she'd have been pleased if he decided to take her away from this place. But that wasn't the way she felt now. She needed to finish this, needed to see it through. She was actually learning about the ranch now, and she desperately wanted him to notice that. And it was making her a nervous wreck.
"I'd love to try the local food," Richard said with what she thought was his first genuine smile since his arrival.
"Great!"
The two of them walked toward her front drive, where his fancy rental SUV was sitting. She would give just about anything to ride in the nice leather seats and with actual air conditioning blasting from the vents, but the devilish side of her wanted to give her father a taste of his own medicine.
"We'll take my truck, Father. After all, you got it for me," she said with a wide-eyed smile.
Richard looked over at the rusty orange heap, and she could see that he had serious doubts about getting in, but she had to give the man credit. He didn't argue; he just wrenched open the troublesome passenger door and climbed up onto the ripped vinyl.
"I'm sorry, Brielle. I didn't realize this truck was in such poor condition," he muttered when she finally managed to get the engine started.
"Don't worry about it, Dad. She runs fine," Brielle said. No. She hadn't had a change of heart where the truck was concerned. She hated the temperamental thing, but if she had to endure riding around in it, she was going to make sure her father got the same privilege.
He said something under his breath that she didn't quite catch, but she just smiled as she threw the truck into drive and went down the bumpy road just a little too fast. The ride into town was a teeth-jarring one, and Brielle couldn't be sure, but she could almost swear she saw her father send up a little prayer of thanks when they parked in front of the diner.